


This Place is Not a Place of Honor

by Squeeb100



Category: How to Train Your Dragon (Movies)
Genre: Crying, Fear of Abandonment, Gen, Guilt, Hurt/Comfort, do I have a fixation with guilt? yes and it's called projection, they both are, toothless is too good for this world, very specific but that's what it is
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-01-05
Updated: 2020-01-05
Packaged: 2021-02-27 05:47:12
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,295
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22122049
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Squeeb100/pseuds/Squeeb100
Summary: "No highly esteemed deed is commemorated here."Hiccup explains to Toothless how he was shot down in the first place.
Relationships: Hiccup Horrendous Haddock III & Toothless
Comments: 14
Kudos: 120





	This Place is Not a Place of Honor

**Author's Note:**

> I wish I was joking when I told you that the title is from "long-time nuclear waste warning messages," but I'm incredibly interested in them. Read the Wikipedia page it is FASCINATING. Anyway it felt appropriate.
> 
> I deal with a lot of (mostly unfounded) guilt as both a pet owner and a friend about all the things I think I'm doing wrong, all the ways I could be better, and it escalates itself into 'I'm abusing my animals and am an unfit caretaker I'm the scum of humanity I'm a bad neglectful friend to humans and animals.' This, combined with my chronic tendency to project onto Hiccup, made this fic possible.
> 
> I've also seen some people upset by the fact that Hiccup feels guilty about Toothless' injury. Like of course he does and it's one of the things we just have to face in life that we make mistakes. We screw up and literally all we can do is strive to be better. I do wish there had been something to address this in canon, though. 
> 
> It's just a shorty.

“C’mere, bud—Toothless! Would you focus, please?” Hiccup whirled around, calling over his shoulder at the splash of red vanishing into the underbrush, a Night Fury’s prosthetic fin waving like a proud tribal banner as he dove between the trees after a squirrel. Hiccup cupped his hands around his mouth and shouted again. “Toothless!”

A tree creaked loudly in the distance and Hiccup winced at the mighty crash that followed. The bushes rustled and the ground vibrated under his foot as Toothless bounded back over, skidding to a halt and narrowly avoiding bowling his rider over. He tilted his head one way, then the other, as if to say _what? Last I checked, we were just traipsing along in the woods._

“There’s something we gotta do, buddy,” Hiccup told the dragon, offering his hand for Toothless to butt up against. The dragon pressed up into his palm, dragging it over the flat top of his head and closing his eyes in bliss. Then he opened them, pupils dilated happily, and flounced around Hiccup in a circle.

“Yeah, I know, you’re a goof.” Hiccup cracked a smile despite himself, hoisting the twisted and rusting metal closer to his body before starting back along the path. Toothless trailed along behind him and smelled the mangled prosthetic tail under his arm for the fourth or fifth time that afternoon, whuffing in discontent at whatever scent was still clinging to it. Hiccup had often wondered if different dragons’ fire carried a scent mark of some sort. There were different compounds in each, of course, he and Fishlegs had been experimenting with them to various degrees of explosion, but the point was Toothless seemed to think something was off about the old rig. Could he still smell the Red Death on it?

“Don’t like it much, do you?” Hiccup asked wryly, stepping around a familiar stone which made him ache with something like nostalgia, memories of walking this path multiple times a day. “Me neither,” he muttered. He swallowed and braced himself with his prosthetic before sliding down a little decline. “We should’ve done this a while ago.”

Toothless pulled up to trot alongside his rider as they neared their destination, each step shooting dread up into Hiccup’s chest. He glanced up to the right, catching the tip of Raven Point over the treetops to judge their trajectory. This was about right.

With a _mmmrrrr,_ Toothless paused and scented the air, mouth open slightly. He swiveled his head to catch the best wind, then made a little peep of recognition and loped up ahead, vanishing for a moment. When Hiccup caught up, the dragon was already pacing around the furrow in the ground, nose to the dirt and plates pressed back in what looked like distress. Not fear or anger, but certainly not pleasant. He remembered.

Hiccup scuffed the edge of the track with the end of his prosthetic. A year of rain and wind had disguised it somewhat, but it was still visible. Hiccup glanced over his shoulder to find a familiar tree, twisted and bowed over with the force of a downed dragon hurtling into it.

Toothless lifted his head and huff-whined at Hiccup. _This place is a bad place,_ he seemed to say. _I don’t like it here._

“We don’t have to stay very long,” Hiccup assured him, stepping closer to place a hand on his shoulder. He rubbed his thumb along the little divot of a scar he felt there. Then he dragged his feet forward again, toward a boulder a few yards up the path. Toothless moaned a little nervously and pressed up closer to Hiccup, seeking safety and comfort in a place of unpleasant memories.

“Nothing dangerous here, bud,” Hiccup reminded the dragon, voice catching in his throat. Toothless pulled ahead to scout the area as they rounded the boulder. Hiccup scanned the small clearing, noting bits of rotting rope and rusting iron balls in the way. It was untouched. Silence and stillness hung around them, foreboding. This clearing was locked in time.

Toothless looked up, chittering, then nudged at one of the iron balls. His wings were fanned open a bit; Hiccup thought he probably wasn’t aware of them. It was a nervous response, his body setting up to take flight as soon as danger reared its head. His right tail fin was flexed.

“You remember this place, huh?” Hiccup asked. Toothless rumbled his assent and continued to sniff around the clearing, pausing especially at the boulder. Hiccup wondered if his scent was still there, mingled with knee-buckling fear and acrid dragon breath.

As Toothless continued to inspect the clearing, Hiccup stepped toward the middle. He nudged one of the iron balls a bit with his prosthetic; it took a moment to budge, sunken into the soft ground as it was. Hiccup kneeled and laid the mangled remains of Toothless’ original prosthetic among the bits of rope, approximately where the dragon had lain, defeated. A little poetic, and a little on the nose, maybe. Hiccup had thought it would probably be easiest to explain the situation if he provided some context, but Toothless’ anxiety made him wonder if he should rethink.

What would Toothless do? Would he leave? No, he’d given him his freedom last Snoggletog and he’d stayed stubbornly on Berk. But this? Would this change anything? Should he pack up, turn around, and leave? They could go home and forget this ever happened, Toothless wouldn’t suffer for not knowing, and they could go on just as they had, without--

A _mmmrrr?_ in his ear made Hiccup jump.

“Whoa! Hey, buddy,” he reached around Toothless’ head to scratch his neck. “Startled me.” After a moment more of hesitation, he leaned back and let himself sit down, hoping that showing vulnerability would help Toothless relax.

Toothless rumbled and stepped forward to smell the prosthetic again, then looked up at Hiccup and cocked his head. _Why are we here? Why is_ this _here?_ he seemed to ask. Hiccup wondered if he was confused about why they’d suddenly come out here after a whole year, or the reappearance of the useless rig, or the juxtaposition of a good thing with this _bad place._

Hiccup reached for one of the iron balls and weighed it in his hand, chipping some dirt away to find that underneath, it was untarnished. He kept it close to the ground, looking down toward it as Toothless reached forward to smell it, nudge it, and give Hiccup’s fingers a little lick.

Hiccup reached up with his free hand to stroke the side of Toothless’ head. Then he set the ball, gently, between the twisted, sooty rays of the rig.

Toothless followed, smelling the ball and the rig and wrinkling his nose. His eyes, pupils half-dilated with a confused mix of anxiety and fondness, flicked up to Hiccup. _Why is this here?_

“I made them both,” Hiccup murmured, his voice sounding unbearably loud in the stillness.

Toothless froze, glanced back at the old rig and trap, and then raised his great head to meet Hiccup’s eyes, pupils contracting slightly. He was confused. Hiccup closed his eyes, heaved a deep breath, and pressed on. He could feel his heart pattering up against his ribcage, horrified and sickened by what he was about to say. He was going to admit to the worst thing he’d ever done.

He picked up a bit of the old rope and twisted it between his fingers, feeling the damp threads fall away from each other without so much as a nudge. “The trap— _this,”_ he gestured to the clearing, hoping Toothless would infer what he meant. “I made it. I’m—” he choked for a moment, squeezed his eyes shut. “I’m the one who shot you down,” he finished, crumpling into himself, and now the words were tumbling out unchecked. “I-it was me, who hurt your tail, I’m the one who hurt you. The reason you’re so scared of this place, I…we used to fight dragons, you know? And I was trying to kill one, but when I saw you there, I don’t know, I just—”

He was interrupted by Toothless’ tail whisking over his head, ruffling his hair a bit in its wake. The dragon inspected it, flexing his remaining fin and watching as the prosthetic hung there limply.

Hiccup reached forward and worked the prosthetic fin loose, pulling it away to look at the ragged, scarred fringe of webbing which was left. He could see where each delicate ray had broken, pulled clean away after being caught by something—a tree branch, Hiccup had always thought. And he thought about it often, how painful it must have been if Toothless had been conscious. How frightening it would have been to have his wings pinned and suddenly be plummeting, possibly to his death, crashing through and mowing down trees. He had scars from where branches had torn through his thick skin. And then he would have landed and been trapped, alone and hurt for hours in the woods, waiting for something to come finish him off.

Toothless blinked at the wound, glancing first to the prosthetic in Hiccup’s hand, then to his face. He moaned a little in what Hiccup interpreted as disbelief.

“It was me,” Hiccup choked out. He fastened the prosthetic back with practiced fingers, then rested his hands gently on Toothless’ tail. “And I came and I…I tried to kill you.” And try as he might to hold them back, tears were slipping out and his throat was tight enough that talking felt impossible. He shut his eyes and bowed his head and choked out a painful sob.

Toothless’ tail pulled away, out of Hiccup’s desperate, grasping hands. A pit dropped open in his chest as he felt the dragon’s mass recede. He’d told the truth and this was his punishment, late as it had come. He’d lied his way into the best thing that had ever happened to him and now his only friend would leave him, rightfully, for the terrible things he had done.

He sobbed again, a little pathetically, not quite sure where Toothless was. Had he left the clearing entirely? Hiccup felt small and alone in the middle of the woods, eyes closed against his delayed reckoning.

Then a familiar warmth shoved up against his back, scales sliding against his vest as Toothless curled around him from behind. Hiccup opened his eyes as the dragon’s tailfins came to rest in his lap. Toothless lowed mournfully and rested his head on top of Hiccup’s, cocooning him in a tight little bundle of safety. He purred and Hiccup relaxed into the familiarity of the position. Toothless had done this before, if Hiccup was particularly stressed or cold or in a great deal of pain.

Hiccup sobbed again, feeling like his whole ribcage would collapse, at the thought that he could have _lost_ this. That he was _deserving_ of a future without it, and Toothless’ damned forgiving spirit would sit here reminding him of that forever.

“I’m sorry,” Hiccup worked out between shuddering breaths, trying to get himself under control. He didn’t know if he was apologizing for the injury, or for crying, or for making such a big deal out of something that Toothless had made seem so _small_ in a few seconds. For all the nights he’d lain awake with Toothless trying frantically to assuage his guilt (which of course made it worse). For the year it had taken him to finally break down and confess.

Toothless’ head lifted away from Hiccup’s and he panicked again, eyes shooting open. Was he leaving?

The dragon hummed again, grief saturating the sound, and lowered his head. Hiccup leaned forward curiously as Toothless nudged his prosthetic.

“That’s not the same!” Hiccup protested. “You did that to save my _life,_ and I can still get around without _you!_ You’re a dragon and you can’t even _fly_ without me glued to your back. That’s not the _same.”_

Toothless huffed and nudged Hiccup’s leg again, firmly.

“I _know_ I’m being ridiculous, I _know_ anyone else would have killed you and that it _had_ to happen this way but I can’t stop _thinking_ about it.” He laughed wetly. “I didn’t realize I was this upset about it.” Saying the words aloud had burst some dam inside him and all the emotions he’d stuffed away had rushed out in that truly spectacular crying fit. _If Dad could have seen that,_ Hiccup thought, and was startled by the panicky feeling that bubbled up inside him.

Toothless hummed again, comforting, and rubbed his cheek along Hiccup’s. Then the tip of his tongue flicked at Hiccup’s ear.

“Augh!” Hiccup reeled back, but couldn’t move far enough to escape a full-tongue stroke. “Toothless!” he shrieked. The dragon slunk out of the way, leaving Hiccup to fall on his back, and then loomed over him, licking tears from his face mercilessly as Hiccup tried to ward him off with flailing arms.

Hiccup was trying to clear dragon saliva out of his mouth when Toothless danced away and bowed playfully, tail arching in a mockery of aggression. “Blah. Blegh.” The Night Fury shot him a slightly guilty look. “Yeah, your spit’s in my mouth, nasty!”

Toothless arched his back and bugled laughingly before leaping and gliding over Hiccup’s head. Hiccup whirled around to see his friend crouching patiently, offering his back.

“The world doesn’t deserve you, bud,” he said fondly, slotting his prosthetic into place and swinging his leg over Toothless’ shoulders. He leaned forward and pressed against the dragon’s neck, mouth tucked near his ear flaps. “But I’m glad I’ve got you.”

Toothless purred and wriggled, spreading his wings. _Let’s go, already!_ he seemed to say.

“Alright. Let’s get out of here, bud.”

**Author's Note:**

> Wham, bam, there we go.
> 
> I feel like it goes without saying but I am absolutely not trying to assign merit to different types of disability with Hiccup's comment about 'that's not the same.' I'm purely trying to write from Hiccup's point of view.
> 
> Thanks so much for reading! Please consider leaving me kudos or comments, if you're up to it. They sustain me.


End file.
